Chronicle of a Summer

Happiness can be difficult to find if you spend your time consistently looking for it, questions seeking to discover if you're happy often encouraging disgruntled malaise. 

A blissful state of visceral integration can immersively flourish if unacknowledged, the conscious interrogation of the waking dream potentially producing unsettling affects. 

In the final episode of the original Twin Peaks series Marcus Aurelius is quoted, Waste no time arguing what a good man should be, be one, so the saying goes, the meticulous depth into which ethical discussions sink often generating misery, if you're not interminably disposed they can go on ad infinitum. 

Attempting to apply the morose despondency to the lighthearted nonchalance often found when working, while attempting to inspire a higher state of awareness, often gets bogged down in manifold detail, and leads to greater confusion as opposed to widespread lucidity.

Simple solutions sweetly flowing with unobtrusive easy-to-follow-messages, can lead to more lasting results as melodramatically demonstrated by advertising. 

For the people who see through the ads and constantly feel aloof and cynical, a comprehensive literary bearing with lengthier more convincing arguments may help.

If they seek the dynamic realization of their arguments in a mass restructuring of postmodern society, they may find frustration routinely abounds as they spearhead colossal change.

If they can settle for elaborate books which imaginatively delineate alternative reconstructions, without radically attempting to implement their designs, if such designs demand shocking changes to the smoothly flowing status quo, and discuss things amongst themselves, they may find peace for a time, if they aren't just indefinitely accustomed to doom and gloom.

If they attempt to implement abstract theories that even they have trouble understanding, without thinking through the startling consequences the intense remodelling is bound to have, woe may be widely disseminated as we see happening in the United States these days, where stubborn idealistic governmental impositions are obstinately ruining a once robust economy.

If only things were certain like they seemed to be earlier on in life.

The more media you consume, the more jaded.

While happiness can't be found without consuming more media.

Unless you stop thinking about it.

Go with that flow. 

Beau Travail

A group of dedicated soldiers is professionally assembled in Eastern Africa, and taught to efficiently train in the time honoured art of balanced routine.

The locals curiously regard them as they exercise within their lands, the Legion's regimented solemnity a modern spectacle deriving pathos. 

It seems somewhat innocent and harmless as they freely stick to their upbeat selves, and build a harmonious continuity within their sombre intense ranks. 

With no wars to occupy their time and a general desire to remain aloof, the offbeat focused isolated unit peacefully co-exists with the world around them.

Unfortunately, where many find peace there are still those who cultivate conflict, and the uptight fastidious sergeant finds himself bitterly consumed by jealousy.

A new recruit proves quite remarkable and effectively demonstrates natural talent, in the eyes of their commanding officer he has great potential for a soldiering future.

The sergeant can't rationally stand it and desperately seeks to halt his progress. 

Unable to mediate his contempt.

Or accept the calm endearing tranquility. 

Once again, the evocative Claire Denis crafts a multilayered sensual tale, with a small budget in a foreign land while dealing with potentially volatile subject matter (not often you see thought-provoking low budget independent army films).

Startling to see such a tender take on formidable concrete durable masculinity, emphasizing brotherhood and camaraderie from a mutually self-sacrificing reliable vision.

The consistent observations of the inquisitive locals add so much humanistic depth, as you lightheartedly think along with them, what are they doing there?, while peace envelopes the land.

It starts off with intermittent savvy and congenially blends several different scenes, realistically invigorating the tragic tale with inherent foreign spiralling multiplicity.

Details of the plot are cleverly interwoven to the point where it seems secondary like a distant vision, the conducive galvanizing merry imagery awe-strikingly dismissing imperial entanglements.

I was hoping the entire film would continue to progress in this dreamlike fashion, not that the principal narrative is dull or uneventful, 90 plus minutes of the former would have just been incredible.

Too bad so much grief has to pass before the concluding moments fashionably exemplify, a welcoming world not so timorous or severe presenting alternative manners of masculine expression.

Stentorian peace exotically exclaimed with celebratory festive inhibition.

Rare to see anyone make this point.

Especially with such ingenious visceral exhibition. 

Chocolat

Growing up alone and isolated in a foreign nation while nestled in the country, a young child observes the inner-workings of a French colonial government.

Things generally proceed without dilemma, issue, hiccup, or re-modification, since her father's level-headed and makes Indigenous friends and local contacts.

He's gone for extended periods pursuing various governmental initiatives however, leaving his wife and child in the steady care of a clever resourceful citizen.

Who's been able to casually bridge relaxed European and African customs, with fluid evocative hands-on knowledge he feels at home wherever he goes. 

He's a jack-of-all-generational-trades and gets along well with both parents and children, like a cool open-minded and friendly babysitter who can also fix the generator or chase away hyenas.

The routine life upon the compound proceeds dependably without much uproar, although a plane lands one day nearby due to unfortunate mechanical malfunctions. 

It introduces a cast of characters representing less settled colonialist viewpoints.

Little France observes with wonder.

While the adults search for temporal occupation.

Chocolat presents a raw depiction of a select period from an atypical life, offering accounts of unfiltered memories that seemed peculiar to youth in blossom.

It's fun to watch Claire Denis's film because the narrative isn't strictly linear, there's a story that progresses throughout no doubt but it's broken up by random occurrences.

It's like a thoughtful surrealist embarkation into the innocent world of youth and playtime, in a sincere environment where the child tries to make sense of the strange conversations held by different adults.

The memories are like cool flashbacks to uncanny airs which must have seemed odd, certainly not like the familiar adventures she would have imagined with other bureaucrat children.

As it unreels, one scene after another depicts a fascinating narrative technique, where everything fits, nothing's misplaced, but the individual scenes are like mini-stories of their own.

You can pick and choose the individual tales as if you were leafing through an anthology, or watch them in succinct succession as they serpentinely structure a mischievous yarn.

Like being transported back to early childhood to freely reflect upon bewildering pastimes, the mesmerizing curious vignettes peacefully prosper through animate invention.

Held together by an African saint who can efficiently tread so many walks of life.

Unlike anything I've seen before.

Unique beauty inspired in motion. 

Neptune Frost

Immersive soundscape luscious lounging technoconscious enviroactivism, resolute awareness communally composed distinct improvised incisive revelation. 

I was watching Superman (1978) the other day and taking note of Kryptonian crystal, how they used crystalline technologies to perform so many hydroelectric functions. 

I'm not sure why, but seeing the crystals made me think of the rays of the sun, and how they're transmitted across our solar system with luminescent solar levity.

I had been thinking about the Venus flytrap and how it evolved to mimic its surroundings, and was wondering how that could ever be possible without external spiritual light.

Or thought.

Isn't it like plants that have evolved to mimic their surroundings, or animals who have developed specific evolutionary adaptations to aid their survival, consciously thought such adaptations would be beneficial, and psychologically sought them for millennia?

Barring the appearance of a game changing divinity, who simply utilized his or her miraculous omniscience to suddenly spark change around the world, perhaps God rather lives in the sun and orchestrates evolution based upon its quality of light.

Perhaps there's much more to the light we generally halfheartedly consider, and a being capable of manipulating its energy creatively does so to simultaneously spearhead manifold change?

Thus, the porcupine seeks a potent defence to prevent the other forest and jungle and savannah animals from attacking it, and silently prays for quills for millennia, the deity constantly bombarded with myriad thoughts which he or she slowly sifts through till the end of time.

The God then responsible for generating life on Earth through the development of his or her munificent sun, then adjusts the quality of light his or her star shares, which facilitates evolutionary change (and quills for porcupines). 

Without thought, without the desire to slowly suddenly adapt to natural surroundings, how does "inanimate" life suddenly adapt to its surroundings?

Doesn't it make more sense that life in general spiritually communicates, and transmits thought at imperceptible levels which we have yet to comprehensively detect (like how different animals can see, hear, or smell things we can't)?

Perhaps life is a computer program but isn't that a dangerous idea, that encourages the mechanical misperception of fluent goodwill and prosperous life?

Neptune Frost is brilliant and it encourages growth and change. The kind of growth and change that shouldn't take millennia. Through the historical ebb and flow.

Many of its ideas were indeed mainstream in my youth. 

It's never too late to bring them back.

They sought peace and general prosperity.